


Cell Mates

by Lightning_Skies



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Boyd, Alive Erica, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_Skies/pseuds/Lightning_Skies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard never let Stiles go and he was captured by the Alpha Pack with Boyd and Erica</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cell Mates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gryvon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryvon/gifts).



> Some of this might be a little confusing to anyone who has never experienced having ADHD without meds, but it's from Stiles' POV so you get a glimpse of the chaos.

When Stiles came to he thought for a moment that he was still in the Argent’s basement. His face was pressed into a cold stone floor and the air was stale with the general sense of being underground. He groaned when moving even slightly made his whole body light up with aches and pains. There was a rustle of fabric nearby.

 

“Stiles?” He blinked one eye open, the other remaining stubbornly shut, all swollen and gummed up with dried tears of pain. Boyd’s concerned face loomed over him.

 

Suddenly, it all crashed over him. He remembered a flash of pained half consciousness, waking up with his head lolling against a warm chest as he was bounced and jostled by their panicked flight through the woods. He remembered Erica and Boyd’s harsh breathing as they pushed themselves beyond the limits of what even werewolves could endure.

 

He remembered being surrounded by dark figures with red eyes. He jolted up and looked around frantically. “Where?”

 

“We think it’s some kind of bank.” Boyd said, helping steady him as his head swam. Being punched in the face left Stiles with a whole new kind of hangover. His brain throbbed right behind his eyes and he squinted at Erica where she sat against the bars opposite him. It was dim in their little prison but his eyes pulsed with pain at even this small amount of light.

 

“I definitely have a concussion.” He slurred a little through history's worst case of cottonmouth.

 

“Here.” Boyd thrust a half full bottle of water into his hands. Stiles fumbled at the cap, eventually getting it open and guzzling the water down greedily. He sighed and rested his forehead against the empty bottle tiredly for a second.

 

His eyes popped open as a terrible thought struck him. He brought the water bottle down and stared at it in horror. “You don’t feed prisoners you plan to let go anytime soon.”

 

“I don’t think they plan to let us go at all.” Boyd admitted.

 

“Well, shit.”

 

* * *

“Stiles, shut up.” Erica complained from her corner, where she was presumably trying to sleep, or pretending to sleep so that she wouldn’t have to deal with being awake.

 

Stiles stopped tapping his foot. In the sudden silence he noticed that the tinnitus from the concussion was gone, but so were the last dregs of the meds in his system. His concentration was shot. If he listened really hard for the tinnitus he could still hear it, but anyone could hear ringing in their ears if they concentrated or lost focus in just the right way. It was only listening to the vibrations of the small hairs in the inner ear after all, and a person’s body is never truly still. Stiles’ body more than most.

 

His eyes darted around the room, counting the bars, eyeing the safe deposit boxes and considering the treasures they once held, wondering if any of their former owners were still alive, and remembering the last heist movie he’d watched. _Ocean’s 11_. Scott had somehow managed to watch the sequels without starting at the beginning and Stiles was honor bound to straighten him out. Brad Pitt’s character, Rusty, was always eating in those movies.

 

He patted his growling stomach. The Alphas were keeping them alive, but just barely, by his hungry teenage boy standards. He would kill for some curly fries. A flash of pain shot through him and he realized he’d started chewing his tongue a bit too hard. Stiles grumbled at himself in frustration as he sucked the blood away from his injured tongue and swallowed it… unfortunately the blood and sucking made his body think he had food in his mouth and saliva welled up. He was so aware of and focused on the odd sensation of his tongue and throat flexing that he got stuck in a vicious loop of sucking and swallowing loudly without anything in his mouth making little wet noises as he smacked his lips.

 

“Stiles, knock it off.” Erica complained from where she was laying. He startled a bit, he was sure he’d been quiet for long enough for her to fall asleep. He had no sense of time in the vault.

 

Stiles would love to be able to just sleep until rescue came, or sleep at all really. His insomnia was striking hard, and it didn’t help that he felt neither comfortable nor safe enough to sleep. _Wake me up when September ends…_ He realized he was humming and immediately stopped, hunching into himself and looking over at the harsh lines of the she-wolf’s tense back. “Sorry.”

 

He chewed on his lip wondering what Scott was doing, what he’d told his Dad when he noticed he was missing, who was keeping his Dad eating healthy and making sure he slept. His leg started bouncing with the need to run. Stiles wondered if it was just his ADHD or some kind of pavlovian response to being locked in. You always want what you can't have and never miss something until it's gone. Maybe he was an undiagnosed claustrophobic. It was just another kind of anxiety disorder that caused panic attacks and it would fit well with all his other issues. Stiles could feel his pulse fluttering too fast in his throat. It felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, he hadn’t had one in years since his mother died, but he still remembered how awful they were.

 

Isaac was probably claustrophobic after his childhood, or maybe he was comforted by small spaces, Stiles had read about POWs who couldn’t sleep in real beds after they’d been forced to sleep on hard floors for too long. He didn’t think he’d have that problem unless he managed to adjust to sleeping on the hard marble floor. He wasn’t sleeping at all yet so he figured he was still safe. He started clicking his tongue to no real rhythm.

 

“STILES.”

 

“I can’t help it. I have about as much control of my brain right now as you had of your body in the middle of a seizure, Erica.” He hissed angrily, chewing on his thumbnail. “I’m highly medicated for exactly this reason and stress does not mix well with withdrawal. I don’t take enough daily prescription methylphenidates to kill a horse just for funsies.”

 

“Although that’s not saying much because horses have surprisingly delicate constitutions. They can’t throw up so their whole digestive system can be thrown off by the littlest thing. It's like when bunnies die from getting gas.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, it was growing out a bit. God. How long had they been here? He knew he needed to shave it down roughly once a week to keep the buzz and while it was still short, it couldn’t really be called a buzzcut anymore.

 

At what point did a buzzcut become a military cut or an ivy league cut or a crewcut? He was pretty sure it hadn’t grown out enough to be a caesar yet. He’d never been real sure of the nuances in hairstyles beyond short, long and mullet. “I know ADHD is like the fad diagnoses for problem kids, but this isn’t just me being a little excitable… I have a full blown neuropsychiatric disorder that means I have attention deficit and hyperactivity. Which means I CAN’T focus and I CAN’T stay still and I CAN’T be quiet.”

 

He checked his phone again, which still had a battery that was just as dead as it had been the last 30 times he checked it and probably would have had the same lack of reception from the several hundred times before that. His thumb circled over the divot for the home button, round and round, feeling the contrasting edge. He could feel himself sweating through his shirt despite the cold floor that had made his ass go numb days ago.

 

When he looked up from inspecting the weave of his jeans and pulling on the loose white threads from a tear… why were the threads of blue jeans always white… where did the color go? When he looked up Boyd was watching him. He made a face at the stoic boy.

 

“What? Do you have a noise complaint to lodge too? I’m sure our bloodthirsty wardens would just LOVE to hear your requests for a new cellie. Maybe if you’re lucky they’ll throw me in solitary.”

 

“I think it’s more likely they’d just kill one of us.” Stiles stared at him in mute horror.

 

“Don’t even joke about that.” Erica sat up and glared poisonously at Boyd, but it was a fragile rage. The futile kind of anger that barely masked the desperation underneath. The same kind of anger that had made them bicker and snap at each other since they’d been locked into the vault.

 

“It wasn’t a joke.” Boyd blew out a heavy breath, “It’s been days, more than a week at the very least. No one’s coming for us. Derek’s not coming. We abandoned him and his offer of pack.”

 

“I don’t believe that,” Stiles said firmly, “I don’t know about Derek, but you don’t know Scott and my Dad if you think they’re not looking for me. We are NOT going to die here.” He pointedly turned away, wrapping his drafty jersey around himself as tight as he could and wedging his lax pads between his shoulder and the wall to make himself an uncomfortable pillow. He shivered at the chill in the air. He’d been sweating out his medication withdrawal and all he had to wear was his underarmor and a thin jersey barely big enough to stretch over his pads and designed for breathability. Short sleeves and shorts did not make for much protection against the cold metal and stone cage.

 

Erica and Boyd exchanged a glance and then shuffled over to Stiles’ corner. They had all unconsciously marked out separate territories in their vault and had each been struggling to keep warm and comfortable, the least they could do was band together for warmth and interpersonal comfort.

 

That night they actually managed to sleep some, curled together. It was a fitful and broken rest, but it was better than nothing as they reveled in the simple comfort of companionship. Whatever their feelings for each other, they were stuck in this situation together.

* * *

The next day Stiles was surprised when Boyd sat next to him, the larger teen didn’t say anything but began to gently police Stiles’ hyperactivity with a pat on his knee when his foot tapped or a slight nudge whenever he started to make mouth noises again. With their efforts combined they cut down the extraneous sounds to a more manageable and much less nerve grating level. They sat there, shoulder to shoulder, as Erica either got some sleep, or more likely, continued to avoid the world by pretending to sleep with her head pillowed on Boyd’s thigh.

 

“I feel like some kind of gorgon with my head whispering a hundred different thoughts in a hundred little snake voices all the time.” Stiles said a few days later, apropos to nothing but his own meandering thought process.

 

“You’d look terrible with snake hair.” Boyd was, as always, completely unruffled by whatever tangent Stiles had traveled down.

 

“I really would, wouldn’t I.” He squinted up at the larger teen, “You might be able to pull it off.”

 

“I’m more of a pompadour guy.”

 

Stiles’ laughter was thin and died off quickly, but the brief moment of levity was much appreciated. He thought that even his mind felt a little quieter with the warm hand on his knee and the strong shoulder to lean on. He didn’t even notice when he dropped off, slumped over against Boyd’s warm arm.

 

* * *

“Boyd? What do you think will happen to us on the lunar eclipse?” Erica hugged her knees as they talked. They had all noticed when too much time passed and there was no reaction to the full moon. Their sense of time was skewed by the lack of windows or regular meals, but they had agreed that the full moon should have happened already. Stiles thought the lack of reaction might be because they were completely sealed off from the touch of the moon, like in old werewolf movies when they lost power if the moon was behind clouds.

 

With nothing better to do they started discussing other lunar events and how they might effect their powers. Stiles had long since memorized the moon calendar for the rest of the year and mentioned the upcoming eclipse.

 

“They last for hours you know? Cuz, It’s just the earth’s shadow. I wonder what’ll happen to us. Maybe it’ll make us stronger, I hope it’ll make us stronger.”

 

“Maybe you’ll be able to go full shift.” Stiles suggested half-heartedly. If the moon gave them power then the dark of the moon wasn’t likely to make them more powerful.

 

“Yeah,” Erica smiled, “That’d be pretty cool.”

 

* * *

“D’you think school’s started yet?” Stiles murmured, he had his head laid in Erica’s lap and the feeling of her fingers playing with his hair was keeping him calm and focused. She’d joked about how he liked being pet so much that she should start calling him Catman instead of Batman.

 

Stiles had amused himself with detailing the entire DC history of Thomas Blake and the Secret Six. He wasn’t sure if Erica and Boyd were actually interested or just humoring him. He secretly suspected that Erica knew more about the DC universe than she was letting on and had deliberately set him off to give them all something to do. She and Boyd had spent the next few days prompting him with hero and villain names and letting him rattle off their fictional bios.

 

Her hand stilled for a moment, “I don’t know.”

 

“I just can’t help but wonder. It’d be the first time since 3rd grade that Scott and I didn’t drive to school together on the first day of the year.”

 

“Would it be so bad to spend the first day of school with us instead?” Boyd asked.

 

“I have no complaints about the company, but being at school would be a massive improvement. Even Harris’ class.” He sighed and turned over on his back to look up at the wolves. “It’s been forever. We don’t even know what happened with Gerard and Jackson. I’m starting to agree with those people who say Hell is nothing but a waiting room for all eternity. I can’t imagine anything much worse than this.”

 

Erica curled over and hugged him, "At least they've let us stay together."

 

"All for one and one for all." Boyd intoned dryly, but he slung his arm over Erica's shoulder as she cried into Stiles' hair.

 

* * *

Stiles startled upright from where he was sleeping curled between Erica and Boyd at the first rumbling thump in the wall. The two wolves were already awake, having heard whatever it was long before his human ears picked it up.

 

The whole vault shook as small bits of the marble and concrete shook loose. Again and again the wall rumbled, giving Stiles first hand insight into how terrifying the water ripple scene from Jurassic Park was. He jerked back as a huge chunk of the wall exploded, throwing concrete dust and marble chunks everywhere. Stiles raised his arms to protect his face as he coughed on the dust choking the air.

 

When he looked up Erica was crouched protectively in front of him and Boyd stood between them and the opening in the wall as two figures stepped through into the dark room.

 

Two voices called out simultaneously, “Boyd?”“Stiles?”

 

Stiles sagged with relief, “Scott! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

 

Boyd and Erica just started growling. From the weak light filtering through the hole in the wall Stiles saw their claws glinting as they advanced on Derek and Scott. Derek held his hands out placatingly, “We’re here to get you out okay?”

 

“Boyd?” Stiles called. There was a hitch in the growling and a flash of golden eyes in his direction, but he was quickly dismissed as a threat. “Erica? What are you doing?”

 

Scott tried to circle around the suddenly feral wolves, but Erica noticed him inching towards Stiles and roared. She leapt at Scott and threw him against the far wall. Boyd meanwhile had buried his claws knuckle deep in Derek’s shoulder, the Alpha too shocked to resist him.

 

“Stop it!” Stiles shouted. “Boyd! Erica! They’re here to help us!”

 

He ran up to Boyd and started pulling on his arm, trying to get him to let Derek go. With a snarl the larger teen swiped at him and backhanded him into the wall. Stiles gasped in shock, his trembling hand coming up to touch the lines of fire cutting across his chest. “Boyd?”

 

He heard a gutteral whimper and Scott calling his name as he slid down the wall, the throbbing pain in the back of his head overwhelming his consciousness.

 

* * *

Stiles woke up in the hospital and despite the pain, couldn’t have been happier about it. He recanted every bad thing he’d ever said about the hospital, it was a glorious paradise compared to the dark, cold vault. The thin mattress was better than a plush cloud.

 

He tried to lift his hand and shade his eyes from the bright fluorescent lights but found himself permanently attached at each hand to his two cell mates. They were gripping his hands tight as if they thought he might slip away, but the looks on their faces were nervous.

 

“What happened?”

 

The two wolves glanced at each other. Erica took a deep breath, visibly steeling her nerve and finally answered. “Scott and Derek came to get you.”

 

“Us.” He corrected, giving her the evil eye and daring her to correct him.

 

“Us.” She admitted. “They figured out that reason we never transformed was due to some kind of mineral in the concrete. They broke in on the night of a full moon so we lost control and tried to defend what our instincts had come to see as our den… and our mate.”

 

“Uh.” Stiles gaped at her, “Really?” He glanced from her to Boyd and back again. “But I thought you two were…”

 

“We are.” Boyd finally chipped in, watching him closely.

 

“...but you and me?” Stiles pointed back and forth between Erica and himself.

 

“Yeah, that old crush of mine never really went away Batman.” She admitted quietly.

 

“...and you and me?” This time Stiles indicated Boyd. “I thought you hated me.”

 

“No.” Boyd corrected, “I never hated you, you intimidated me.”

 

“Wha-Really?”

 

“Stiles I've never had the nerve to talk to anyone, is it really so weird that I was jealous of your ability to talk to everyone. I like listening to you.”

 

“So, what do you say, Stiles?” Erica asked hopefully.

 

“To you?” Stiles repeated dumbly.

 

“To us.”

 

“BOTH of you?” He squinted up at Boyd, who just nodded.

 

“Yes, Stiles. To both of us.”

 

“Uh... Y-yeah... okay.” The next thing he knew he was engulfed in a spine crushing hug and had a faceful of blonde curls. A large hand curled it’s way around the back of his neck and his head was tilted just right for Boyd’s surprisingly soft lips to press gently against his in a short sweet kiss.

 

“Yeah.” Stiles repeated, still a little dazed, “Apparently this is a thing now.”

 

“Shut up, Stiles.” Erica muttered into his shoulder.


End file.
